The longest ache.
Tears form in the corner of my eyes when
I remember the magic i felt,
The beauty I witnessed.
And I remember wiping
The red dust from my cheeks
So long ago.
The joy and the wonder a new sight can
The souls one meets that love a song.
I did not believe.
It was another life now
And then another
And here I am still in wonder.
The longest ache sears through my veins.
The yearning remains.
The ancient beats within my heart reverberate
Through time unseen in synchronization with those who came before
And those yet to come.
Evenings light was falling
I chose to take
A walk among the olive trees.
Others were elsewhere
Settling for dinner.
The earth was dry,
Dust rising and making a bit
Of a haze as
I moved toward the sun.
I came to a low rock wall deep in the orchard
Decided to take
A moment of rest.
Removing my backpack to use as a pillow
I lay upon the ground.
I swear I heard laughter
And the shuffle of bare feet behind me,
I quickly sat up and turned my head to find no
Maybe the ghosts were as delighted as me
Under those old olive trees.
And I wondered how many souls had tread
How many had stopped to take a moment and
Replenish their weary hearts with these roots
How many partook
Of the olive tree before me?
Walking the old river bed,
How often has the course changed?
How often the boulders
Worn to rocks
Worn to pebbles
Worn to dust?
The river carries them on,
How often the roots of mighty trees exposed,
They held on until
Nothing left for them to grasp,
They succumb to the way
And float on?
How often no man stands to witness the
Of the fall?
With the river
To the sea.
Old riverbeds remain and regrow from tiny
Seed to become mighty trees
In time forgetting the river.
There is nothing to define
And let yourself unfold
All you are is already inside
You are made of golden sun
Of scars and dust
I open the window with anticipation.
There I hear the birds last summer song,
For summer is done.
Crisp autumn air wafts into the room
Sweeping away with it
Summer’s dust which has settled in the nooks
Not on open books.
My mind is filled with wondrous thoughts of
Falling leaves and cooler mornings to come.
I look to my garden for one last flower
I find none.